Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1887-04-07
70 get new piece of pasteboard-this

| 70 get new piece of pasteboard-thi,
! Is pretty nigh worn OUT
Are you coming, Joseph"
| Inc voice was Deacon Whitney's
and sounded from the wood-shed close
by. Tad fled ANONYMOUSLY through
the rear barn door, while Joe reluct.
antly obeyed the direful summons. Not
that Deacon Whitney was unreason.
ably harsh or stern. Indeed, his wife
said: ''Joe's thrashin's hurt the deacon
a dretful sight more'n they did Joe,"-
which was doubtless true. The boy
knew that his father loved him sim
cerely, and that the whippings were
not given in anger, but from a sense OF
duty, and, though he would willingly
! have dispensed with them, Joe never
cherished the highest feelings of anger
or resentment, after the first smart had
passed away.
Leaving Joe to his impending fate,
Tad climbed the barn-yard fence, and
with a jubilant feeling of gladness,
which was only Swallowed by the oc-
casional thought of his new friend 5
| disappointment, made his way down
across the deacon's meadows, to the
| brook.
Tad knew nothing whatever about
| trout-fishing, as a matter of course.
He had caught founders and cunners
from the piers, like most city boys
but only those. However. he had a
| general idea of some of the require
ments for the piscatorial art. So, with
! a very light heart, he followed the
''mill brook" as it was called, through
| a field and an adjoining pasture, till he
came to an alder swamp. where, hav-
ing cut pole, Tad sat himself down to
shape and trim it.
Well, it was indeed lovely morn
ing. The sky above him, flecked with
drifting white clouds, was of the deep
est blue, the air soft and springi like,
and the peaceful stiffness unbroken
| only by the occasional cawing of crows
or scream of a bluejay.
Tad sat drinking in the beauty of the
time and place, softly whistling to HIM
self as he worked, and thought over the
many strange things that had come in
TO his life in one short week, and all
| because an absent-minded man had left
| his traveling-sachel on the seat in a
railroad station.
"Why, it just seems rs though I'd
been swopped off for somebody else"
| he said. with great sigh of thankful
ness. And though, as might be eN-
pected, Tad Thorne's religious knowl-
edge was of the vaguest possible order,
he somehow felt his heart going out
thankfully to the Maker of such a
| beautiful world.
There" said Tad, as, finishing trim
ming the pole, he rose to his feet and
| brushed off the twigs, ''now for the
trout"
The brook went dancing and laugh
ing along at his side, with here and
| there II mimic waterfall, at the foot of
which the foam and bubbles drifted
about in frothy masses.
With fingers trembling little with
excitement, Tad fastened his line, with
its heavy sinker and hook large enough
for black bass, to the end of the pole.
Adjusting the bait, he threw his line
into the deepest part of the pool.
Il guess 1t isn't very good day for
trout, any way" he murmured, after
about five minutes of letting his line
drift along in the current, and pulling
it up again. But stop! little tug at
the hook sent thrill from his finger
tips to his toes. With jerk that
would have landed a three-pound trout,
Tad pulled out a club about four inches
long, which, with hook, line and sink
er, was Immediately entangled in the
alder branches over his head, requiring
some ten minutes of perspiring effort to
clear it.
Trout amt as big as thought for"
he said. half aloud, as he surveyed his
prize. 1T must take an awful lot of
'em to make mess" Tad added,
gravely, rs he strung the small fish on
twig, and made his way little fur
Their upstream, in his ignorance pass
ing over the deep pools and swelling
eddies, which are generally the Turk
ing-places of the spotted beauties.
By eleven o'clock, Tad, who had
caught seven clubs, each about afinger
in length, began to think that the
charm of trouting had been consider
ably overstated 1t was rather early
in the season for mosquitoes, yet there
were quite enough of them about to
make it quite lively for a fisherman.
He had assembled the brook about two
miles, and was tired and decidedly
hungry: and, moreover, he found HIM
self right n the heart of what seemed
to Tad's lnaccustomed eyes bound
less forest.
Sitting down on a stump, Tad gazed
about him, wondering at the solemn
silence. Overhead, the wind sighed
softly through the tops of the great
pines. Red squirrels chittered in the
spruce and hemlOck trees, and q par
| ticularly venturesome one dropped a
cone from an overhanging bough at his
very feet. vanishing among the branches
with wonderful swiftness, as Tad
looked suddenly up. A partridge
drummed in the distance, and wood
chuck scampered rapidly through the
underbrush at a little way off
81 wonder if there are any bears in
these woods" thought Tad, with an
uncomfortable thrill pervading his
frame at the bear possibility. I'D
either have to run or climb a tree if l
saw one coming" he thought, land